


The Only Thing That's Real

by NeverComingHome



Category: The Following
Genre: M/M, Snuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 18:33:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverComingHome/pseuds/NeverComingHome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>kink-following prompt, spoilers for 1.8. See notes for specifics (paying heed to tags).</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Only Thing That's Real

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the anon prompt:
> 
> "The scene where Joe kills Charlie was basically shot like it was a sex scene, so obviously someone needs to write a fic where they (or at least Joe) have sex during the ritualistic murder"
> 
> on kink-following at LJ.
> 
> Contains: Murder, Snuff (sexual exploitation of death/murder) by stabbing, and romanticized suicide by second party. Just, ya know, saying.

 

 

  
Charlie was a soldier. He did what he was told and never thought about disobeying an order until Alan Pinchek start blubbering on about slim chances next to him. Charlie could hear movement outside, was low on ammo, needed to make the few bullets he had count, remembered hearing something wet when Pinchek tripped over the canister by the door. He sniffed, undid a button and found a bit of flint.

 

“Shit shit shit,” whispered Pinchek. He was an office man, hadn’t fired his weapon since they taught him to use it and they’d been stuck together for a minute too long. Charlie wanted to shout at him, but that would’ve given away their position. “You got a plan?”

 

Charlie made the signal for him to be quiet and Pinchek did, but his nerves had already begun to cloud his judgment. He wouldn’t be of any use to Charlie in his current state. Charlie pointed to the jug across the room, held up the flint and nodded at Pinchek who shook his head and pushed it back towards Charlie.

 

_‘Go,'_ he mouthed, giving him a chance.

 

Pinchek began to sign a complaint so Charlie lunged, snapped his neck, crawled to the canister of lighter fluid, lit a fire, shot at the strangers, then ran for it while they barged into the hut. When he was a safe distance away he fiddled with the speaker, barked, “NOW!” and watched the plane overhead blast the hideout off the map.

 

He killed eight more times before his tour was up and every one of them deserved it. Sure he saved more lives than he took, but then he got to come home and wait for a taxi while a group of kids in university jackets said it was all a lost cause, the war, none of it mattered in the long run. They said it with a laugh, as if they knew something he didn’t, as if they’d walked behind him the entire time shaking their heads and muttering “pointless”.

 

Making sure nothing happened to Claire mattered, bringing her to Joe mattered, of all the followers Joe had let Charlie be the one to take care of his wife. The one thing he’d been asked and asked of himself to do and he’d failed twice.

 

His sergeant once said, “Make a promise right here right now that you will never die and make sure it is the only promise you break, son, because you know the difference between a soldier who can’t keep his word and a dead man? One is a useless bag of flesh who can’t be relied upon for anything and the other is a corpse.”

 

~*~  
“I won’t lie, Charlie, I’m disappointed.”

 

If there was any doubt in his mind it cleared with those words. Joe had been wanting a proper kill since he was released, had mentioned that it had been a long time  since he’d held a knife in his hand. Charlie didn’t look away as the plastic was folded out, nodding when Joe asked him if it was what he wanted.

 

The kiss was slow and murderous, painfully gentle. Charlie’s face was rough, his form tensed and hard against Joe who had softened in prison though his grip was strong when he grabbed Charlie by the back of the neck and pushed the edge of the knife into the side of the other’s shirt, digging into the skin enough to make it bleed, but little more. It was enough to make him gasp, opening his mouth to Joe who pulled back to kiss his lower lip, chin, then tilt his head up to nip at his adam’s apple. His pulse was going crazy and he knew the others were watching, video tapping their leader’s mercy as he both gave and received Charlie’s gift.

 

Joe tried to maintain some sense of propriety, but he couldn’t help but get hard at the sight of Charlie halfway to death with pleading eyes, clenched fists to keep from shaking and breath coming out ragged and short as if he hadn’t been touched in years which was probably the case. Roderick had told him how they intended to get the information out of Ryan’s partner and the fight must’ve wound Charlie up, there were smudges of red on the shirt and when Joe lifted it up he could see the beginnings of many a bruise. It was like watching an ice sculpture melt, Joe shouldn’t have expected anything less and yet the sight remained painful and beautiful all at once.

 

Joe stepped back, traced the knife down the middle of Charlie’s stomach towards his pants then yanked it upward at the top of the zipper so the button popped off. Charlie didn’t move his feet, but leaned forward, his chest bare and his eyes closed looking for all the world like a figurehead on the front of a ship, offering only the best of journeys.

 

“Please,” he said as if he thought Joe was second guessing himself, “I want to matter.”

 

 

~*~  
Charlie was coming and Joe was getting there. He thrust into him, a hand around his erection while Charlie turned his face towards the grate, the fire glowing over them while he moaned and pleaded Joe for more. The plastic stuck to Charlie's naked back and Joe could feel himself growing distant as he got closer, being inside Charlie felt amazing but there was the knife between the other’s teeth, a silent reminder of why they were doing this.

 

“Ah!”

 

Joe took the blade from Charlie’s mouth and replaced it with his own, the flick of the blade going unheard as the movement of Joe’s hips slowed and Charlie kissed him back hungrily. Joe pulled back yet again, his voice hoarse with emotion.

 

“You always mattered.”

 

As the beginning of a smile crossed Charlie’s face Joe stabbed him, plunging the knife in as Charlie’s after glow became another sort entirely. His head craned off the floor and Joe slid both himself and the knife out, cradling the other’s head gently as he both watched and felt the life disappear. He let Charlie’s head thud back down, hovering enraptured over the dying man as he pulled himself off until there was nothing left to watch.

 

He came with a noise that could've been a sob, his forehead pressed to Charlie's, staring into an unblinking gaze. The silence lengethed as he placed the blade on Charlie’s stomach and folded the dead man’s hands over it before sitting back on his heels.  Behind him he heard the click of a recording device turning off.

 

“Someone get me a drink," he growled.

When he looked up three tumblers were outstretched. 

 

 


End file.
